


a path you’ve walked before (feels like home)

by GeraldTheFabulousGiraffe



Series: ell aska semal seem-sa [1]
Category: Original Work, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, Child Abuse, FUCK I FORGOT THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE, Fix-It, Hero Public Safety Commission Bashing (My Hero Academia), Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loose Interpretation of Canon, Major Original Character(s), Multi, Original Mythology, Original Universe, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Siren!Hawks, Takami Keigo | Hawks Acts Like a Bird, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, dont buy kids ffs, i just hate them, technically they’re not human but that’s a whole nother can of worms, this will be happy dammit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28098585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeraldTheFabulousGiraffe/pseuds/GeraldTheFabulousGiraffe
Summary: “He was born on a quirk farm, she said, but some day, he’d fly free; a child of the wind and the open sky.”The man once known as Keigo Takami has had a hard life. Between losing his mother to a trafficker’s auction and getting sold to the Commission, nothing has truly been permanent for him.One thing that remains, however, is his mother’s promise to find him, wherever he goes. He still thinks of it, but after 18 years, it’s hard to hold on hope.When he gets ordered to go undercover for the heroes at the League of Villains, he never expected to have that hope renewed.
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Dabi, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Takami Keigo | Hawks, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Dabi & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Dabi/Takami Keigo | Hawks, Takami Keigo | Hawks & Original Character(s), Takami Keigo | Hawks & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Takami Keigo | Hawks/Todoroki Touya
Series: ell aska semal seem-sa [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058528
Comments: 27
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GC4life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GC4life/gifts), [noodlebunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlebunny/gifts).



> Hi, I’ve been working on this project for about a year now, between hiding from the Rona and doctor’s appointments, but then I was smacked in the face with Hawks and realised how perfectly I could insert him into it.
> 
> So, you get the fun of my original world-building, as well as even more trauma for our favourite bird man.
> 
> If anyone wants explanations of anything, At All, feel free to hit me up on tumblr at @just-a-tree-i-guess or @stitchthepaleontologynerd! Love you all, stay safe, wear a mask!!

When he was younger, his mother used to sing to him. Due to their shared mutation, it would always hold a weird echo. But rather than the words repeated again and again, it would sound like a whole choir of different voices, all blended into one melody. It was the only thing that used to put him to sleep. His mother’s lullabies, and undertone of birdsong, would all soothe him into unconsciousness, even when the doors started to slam. She said it was the story of someone like them, millennia ago — and the gods who saved him.

After so long, the words started to fade, but he could remember the few verses she sang if he tried hard enough.

_ Ash-maker, chain-breaker _

_ Won’t you set us free? _

_ Death-giver, freedom-bringer _

_ Give your gift to me. _

_ Oh goddess of burning relief, _

_ I can bear no more. _

_ Oh goddess of bleached rose, _

_ A favour is all I ask for. _

_ The sky is calling, _

_ Even in these chains, can you hear? _

_ The moon blesses you, _

_ She will hold you dear. _

_ A lifetime here on earth, _

_ And another in the stars, _

_ Let the moon guide you home. _

_ You’ve already come so far. _

Sometimes, when he was alone, or after a meeting with his handlers, he would hum the old lullaby, imagining her strong wings curved around his shoulders, her great talons stroking carefully through his hair.

She had a peculiar nickname for him too. ‘My prince of the sky’. She would hold his hands, golden eyes staring into him, and tell him stories of people just like them, whole communities and villages, high on rock faces and tree tops. She would smile sadly (though he didn’t know it at the time) and speak in a language he was forbidden to share, telling him tales of his ancestors. Of the Ispas — parents who would kill for their children; teach them how to sway an army with just a song; how to use the currents and the weather to their advantage. Of the gods — Isal, the goddess of grief-bleached roses and a parent’s revenge; Aska, the goddess of the afterlife whose children live as stars; and Eshpa, the mushroom god whose winding roots connect lovers and families, no matter how far apart.

The language of a people hidden in legend.

As the years went on, his mother became quieter and quieter; even her lullabies fell silent. Instead of speaking in only the way that they could when the guards weren’t listening, she would speak to him with her hands. They would dance through the air, and she would tell him that, yet again, this was a gift not to be shared, to keep him safe. 

He was born on a quirk farm, she said, but some day, he’d fly free; a child of the wind and the open sky.

As was things in such a place, people came and went, being sold and taken. It was common for people to cycle in and out, but there were a few constants. Namely: his mother and his aunts. He knew that only him and his mother shared DNA, but according to his memories — “Chosen, not born.”

They had raised him in that awful place, and despite what the Commission had tried, he hadn’t forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation note:  
> -ispa just means parent. it’s a title.
> 
> anyways, enjoy how depressing this chapter is!
> 
> Asorei - means “sunrise”, used to be a healer until she was kidnapped  
> Ospo - means “winter”, was born on the quirk farm  
> Isai - variation of the name of the goddess of parenthood and revenge, Isal

Keigo wakes up to singing. Isai-ispa is rocking him gently between her strong arms, tail entwined with his. Her voice is smooth as a river’s stone, steady amongst the screams coming from the other rooms. She is singing of her mountain home again, the endless chambers, and the merciless winds she had grown up riding. The lyrics paint a picture that he can almost imagine; the snow-topped peaks, the sheer drops, the coziness of the fortress inside, the pot of stew resting next to a fire in every room, and faces he has never seen, but knows almost as well as himself.

His scalp buzzes against the thick black talons carding over it. The copper-brown of her wings filters out the smell of mould and old blood, encasing him in a feathery cocoon. Looking up, he can’t see the strain in her smile, or the tears at the corner of her eyes. But they’re there. They’re always there. 

Keigo’s tiny talons trace over the multitude of scars on her skin, each one a story he cannot wait to hear. The softness of her feathers makes him drowsy, and he resolves to ask later.

Flinching at the sharp pains in his stomach, he buries his head further into her warm embrace. The comforting sleepiness goes as quickly as it came. He misses the looks passing over his head. 

His mother’s lips curl fondly at him, the dim light turning her black hair into a halo. The feathers behind her pointed ears are tattered, but his young mind cannot help to think it’s the most beautiful she has ever been. 

Her scaled hand cups his hollow cheeks, smoothing over the feathers and scales, tracing reverently over the markings on his eyes; a smaller mirror of hers. She holds him tightly to her, as if trying to fuse his bones with her own, before she speaks. It is a whisper his twitching ears pick up easily.

“Did you know some humans have a barbaric practise of setting hounds on a fox? The fox can only survive if it outsmarts the masters and their dogs. They will try to turn you into their fox, but you will survive. Be brave, my prince of the sky. Be crafty. Do not be their fox. 

“They will give you commands that go against everything you are; it is simply what they do. If you are clever, my child, you can obey them without ever following their orders. 

“You are young, and brave, but I must ask something of you. Even if you remember nothing else of me, I ask you to remember this promise:

“I love you, and I  _ will  _ return for you, no matter how long it takes me or what I have to do. Remember this, even if it’s the only thing you do.”

Her words strike fear into Keigo’s heart, and he begins to writhe and chirp fearfully. She kisses his forehead, pressing her nose against his. If he knew how long it would be until the next time, perhaps he would savour it more.

Carefully, Isai-ispa shifts him into Asorei-ispa’s arms, singing all the while. The pink haired woman takes up the chorus, turning his head to face her shoulder. She coos, and he stills. The sound fills him with content, a veil of safety slipping over his mind.  _ Everything is okay,  _ it says,  _ I am here and you are safe. _

He’s old enough to know it’s a lie, but young enough to believe it.

A sudden yawn stretches his mouth wide, tiny fangs and a little pink tongue exposed to the air.

A white wing shifts to block any view of the rest of their cell; Ospo-ispa’s golden eyes narrow balefully towards the door.

Under the haze that his instincts bring, Keigo can faintly hear his mother snarling, and the scrape of her claws on the stone as she is taken away.

The next day, the guards bring a feast for the remaining occupants. There is meat, bloody and raw, water, and even chillies; his favourite!

It never occurs to him, the price paid, or why he won’t see his mother again. All he knows is that he was hungry, and now he is not. That is all.

He doesn’t realise he forgot to ask about the scars.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter features explicit self-harm and offscreen suicide, as well as implied sexual abuse of a minor.
> 
> be careful when reading it, and if you want to skip it, i’ll put what happens here.
> 
> -timeskip of a few months  
> -asorei is referenced as having sterilised herself  
> -asorei teaches keigo how to make medicine  
> -ospo kills herself as well as a room of traffickers

The next few months are _awful_ , but it all comes to a head when Ospo-ispa snaps.

Asorei-ispa teaches him in absence of his mother. She tells him of her role as a healer, of why she has never been sold, despite her inability to bear children. When he asks, she stares right at him and says, “I did it to myself, and I do not regret it. I will never regret it. I have assured that no child of mine will be born in chains.” Her hand curls around his scaled cheek, smoothing the downy feathers there. “Besides, why would I ever need to bear one, when I have you?”

Nestled between her wings and tail, he has a sanctuary, safe from nightmares and the outside alike. Each evening brings a new lesson and new skills. She guides his eyes to the constellations; every star is an ancestor watching carefully over him. She passes on her healing skills to him. Though she cannot give him her warming touch, she can teach him how to make medicines. And she does. Keigo learns, and grows, and gets closer to his own demise.

Amongst the auctions, visits by hungry hands, and the ever-present fear, he does not notice Ospo-ispa slowly withering away. She plucks more at her grey-stained-white plumage than she did before, and her dark ears twitch occasionally, like a voice is whispering in them. 

Once, when Asorei-ispa has been called out to help another group of slaves with a difficult birth, Keigo watches as his aunt calmly rakes her own talons down her bare chest. The deep red liquid drips and splatters across her skin, a macabre mockery of his freckles. 

She smiles. It’s _terrifying._

The owl siren licks her fingers clean, before whispering, almost too low to hear.

“Yes, Isal-ispa, I will avenge your children.”

At that point, Asorei-ispa returns, her grey and pink feathers matted with drying blood. But Keigo does not forget it.

It is the summer following the winter in which his mother was taken, and Keigo watches in horrified fascination as his aunt paints herself with gasoline. On her brown skin, she depicts the symbols of Isal; roses and porcelain shards and bloodied thorns. She is smiling again, like that terrible night a few months ago, wide and unhinged. The foul-smelling fluid shines under the dying bulb, glistening where it meets round cigarette scars.

They carve around her arms like vines, entwining and curling over her scars and unsealed wounds. They run parallel to her feathered mane, crowning the base of her tail. The glittering lines gild the white feathers down her spine, together with the harsh light, they give her the illusion of a spectre. She is a creature undead, briefly living and also not. A juxtaposition. A living opposite.

Underneath her breath, she sings the lullaby his mother taught him quietly, and Keigo, all of 5 and a half years old, finally realises what the lyrics mean.

The guards come in to drag her away, grabbing at her harshly. Her brown eyes spark glowing gold as she holds her head high, and she leaves.

_Ash-maker, chain-breaker_

_Won’t you set us free?_

_Death-giver, freedom-bringer_

_Give your gift to me._

The flames bounce off the concrete walls, and Ospo-ispa is welcomed home with open arms.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keigo’s not having a good time, oof.
> 
> translation notes:  
> -aska is the moon goddess, and the guardian of travellers and the afterlife
> 
> enjoy!

The day after Ospo-ispa explodes, the remaining guards come into the room. The next few hours are a blur of Asorei-ispa’s shrieking snarls and the bloody thud of fists hitting his skin. At some point, the shadows in the corner swallow him whole, and when he wakes again, Aska is watching, and the stars twinkle freely. Keigo blinks, and before he can even take a breath, the sunrise-coloured form of his aunt is in view, her pale gold eyes wide and wet.

As her steady healer’s hands run over his form, the young siren settles into her lap. His fluffy tail flicks around to curl around his wrist, and Asorei-ispa laughs. It’s brittle. 

He yawns, and the air catches. With every cough, her skin pales further, until she is as pale as the bodies they sometimes drag past the door. She picks him up, straightening his spine until his lungs are clear. Keigo snuggles into the safe warmth of her embrace; the world could end, and he would be none the wiser for how comfortable he is.

Asorei-ispa shushes his murmurs.

“You will be well soon,” she whispers, “I will see to it.”

But, despite her best efforts, he does not. In fact, he gets sicker by the day. The tickling cough turns wet and wracking, and his temperature rises faster than the sun in summer. Keigo’s mind grows hazy. All he really knows is that he is barely left alone. In the back of his mind, Keigo knows what’s coming, but he cannot acknowledge it, not if he wants to survive. And survive he must, if he is to fly free.

In between the bouts of fever, she tells him of her life before her enslavement, of kind humans  _ (though he cannot believe such a blatant lie) _ , of mortal girls with ginger hair and bright grins, of the inescapability of the march of time, even for such creatures as them. Wrapped up in her wings, she tells him that the best way to honour his mother is to keep himself safe, and if he can, be kind.

One warm evening, on a clearer day, Asorei-ispa presses a white and gold dagger into his hands. She takes his thin face in her worn hands, and speaks.

“Keep this as a reminder of who you are, Keigo. You don’t have to be what they turn you into. We are sirens, and  _ certainly  _ nobody’s hunting hawks.” She ruffles her huge wings, so much larger than his own, and smiles shakily. “I love you, remember that. No matter who you turn out to be.”

The next morning, several armed guards rip him from her arms as he screams and kicks weakly. She tries to keep him by her side, and they break her tail for the effort.

He tries to immortalise the sound of her lullabies and the warmth of her touch, but it will be a long time before he’s allowed to think of her again.

As he’s dragged out, he tries to ignore the growled words about something called ‘Takami’.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srry, my chronic pain is being a bitch, and I have basically no spoons, so this won’t be as good as normal.
> 
> i’ll probs edit this when i’m feeling better.
> 
> stay safe y’all.

His mother named him  _ Hurricane,  _ the gods’ anger given form, the fury of their ancestors; born of water and air, an unstoppable force. It rolled off her tongue like a declaration of war. He is the Hurricane of the Mountain, and he will fly free. His mother was  _ Isai Calimsha,  _ Avenger of the Mountain, and he carries her legacy.

He does not feel like it now. Sweating and shivering under dirty sheets, Keigo cries out for his family. His cries go unanswered, and as the fever forces the bile from his stomach, he wishes he had been allowed to die in his aunts’ arms. Surely, he has died alongside Ospo-ispa; that is the only possible reason for the merciless heat. It smothers his breath, sitting on his chest. It splays across his limbs, trapping them under exhaustion he cannot fight.

Above him, the ceiling is cracked. Stains spread like oceans, all encompassing and layered. The dirty shapes leave no clue as to what colour it was originally — he has not seen many, in his short five winters, but enough to know when things have changed. 

The walls are not too different, but they are marginally better kept. The paintwork is unsteady and washed out, but done with pride. A few pictures grace them, nearly all without frames, but they are radiant in contrast to the pallor of their backdrop.

A scuteless hand comes to rest on his brow, and Keigo startles himself out of his haze. The faces that greet him are warm, thin though they are. The hand retreats, replaced by damp coolness. Instinctively, his talons lash out in a stress grip, trapping the bony wrist in a cage of his fingers.

The woman smiles at him; it is all too much like his mother, and nothing at all. The lines carved at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth speak of age hard-won, but the soft brown of her eyes hold none of the raw power of his mother. There is no alluring glow, no bright gold buried in the black ground of her clan marks.

At once, it hits him. He is alone. She is gone, and Keigo shall never see her again. 

He is both more and less correct than he thinks.

A glance to his wings reveals their state. They are ruffled and messy and unkempt, preened by an unsure, inexperienced hand. But that hand will grow more knowledgeable, as she hides him from the blonde man and his friends. Some days it is unavoidable, she and her family have no powers of their own to shield him when he comes searching, invisible hands ripping him from safety. When he is an adult, he will have next-to-no memory of her; her last impression is not her name, but the soft, stuffed form of the hero who will save him. 

In the months to come, Keigo will grow stronger, and stronger, until he is strong enough to test his fledgling wings against the wind. Strong enough to intervene in fate, his hazelnut feathers pulling six people free of screeching metal.

The hero has a name, Endeavour. He walks, covered in Isal’s light, a scowl etched into the lines of his face. In one fell swoop, he puts away the blonde man with the angry hands and swift belt, as well as many of his friends. The faceless men, only known by their similarities to the men of the tiny cage, with their hungry gazes.

Endeavour is the shining light of the sun, of Asor, and he will inspire a whole generation, whilst their parents whisper behind their hands, fearful of his miasma of rumours, and the consequences of getting too close to the sun.

The story will go on as it is doomed to do in really every telling. The new faceless people, bearing wads of money to present to the remaining men. The kind family is not there to protect him, ignored by all as they are. 

The people in suits take him away, and Keigo is no more.


End file.
